Insurrection
by Quill To Parchment
Summary: (Non-canon) It's not as if they had chosen this life. It was how it was. Peering from one side of the fence - no, brick wall, laced with barbed wires and shards of glass - to the other, the grass wasn't a whole lot greener. Because no matter where you were, it was all desolate, all withered, all so damaged, from inside out. And he wasn't really talking about the terrain anymore.


"What's going on here?"

The voice rang through the empty hall, boxed in by stone walls stories high and settled itself as an inexplicable cold pit in Remus's stomach. The previous sounds of shrill, raucous laughter died down and suddenly all he could hear was his own breath coming out in rasps as he summoned the energy to lift himself and turn onto his back. He immediately pushed himself onto his elbows, gasping with the effort as hair damp with sweat clung to his forehead and his amber eyes darted back and forth.

His vision intensified till he could make out his surroundings, shrouded as they were in a dark and chilly overcast. He watched as his tormentors, rambunctious voices reduced to murmurs, seamlessly moved aside, paving a straight path that disappeared into the dark depths of the room. Fowler, frowning, remained where he was with his wand pointed directly at Remus's forehead and turned slightly to glare at the figure Remus could now discern approaching from the shadows.

"What is it?" Fowler bit out sharply. A person to his right muttered a response and Fowler growled deep in his throat, defensive and feral. Sparks flew from the end of his wand, landing on Remus's thighs and burning little holes in them dangerously close to his skin.

"You promised me, Fowler, I only expect you to keep your word," the unclaimed voice replied, sharp and emotionless. It was nearer, and Remus felt his throat constrict as it sent another chill down his spine.

Fowler's face was tense and livid.

Remus strained to make out the face, hidden in the shadows, as a black-clad figure in boots and exquisite robes emerged into view bit by bit, the little light from lit wands slowly engulfing him from toe up. It was one of _them_. Another pureblood. Remus grit his teeth, tensing.

The face unveiled itself as the shadows receded from its pale form to reveal a striking visage: unblemished marble skin that stretched over a triangular face, patrician features and cold lips thinned in spite, hidden behind an uncaring expression. Ebony hair framed prominent cheekbones in a black curtain and eyes settled on Remus.

Remus's breath caught in his throat.

Grey eyes, like iron handcuffs, locked onto Remus's gaze and held on with frightening strength They were pools of liquid mercury boasting unfathomable depths of frightening magnitude, beautiful, two voids of stormy enigmas that chilled Remus to the bone and simultaneously drew him into their vastness.

Remus hated them. Their aching beauty jarred him.

They were fixed on him as the person who boasted them walked forward with silent footsteps till he was a foot away from Remus, and then crouched down. He tilted his head slightly and regarded Remus with detached interest.

"Lupin, isn't it?"

Remus didn't reply, ignoring the screaming pain in his leg, the ache of his muscles and the fire that burned his throat every time he drew breath. The young man trailed those terrifying eyes down Remus's body and lingered at his wounded calf where his trousers were slightly bloodied and torn. "You've hurt him, Fowler. You aren't supposed to, you know."

Fowler snorted and glared through the slits of his eyelids but said nothing more. The young man stood up, tightening his cloak around him the tiniest bit before fixing his penetrating gaze back on Remus. The look in his eyes gave Remus a terrifying sense of foreboding, making him itch for his wand now more than ever. He felt so vulnerable, so exposed and handicapped in front of this new presence, and the boy hadn't even touched him.

"You aren't to touch him…"

Remus's head snapped up before he could stop himself, for he knew what was to come, and he drew back his upper lip instinctively, snarling. It was a guttural noise of deep-set loathing, and his amber eyes were spitting fire as the wolf inside of him reared its head in rage. The sudden and aggressive response made a few people swing their arms around to point their wands at him as he struggled and strained against the cords holding him down. The young man however, didn't flinch. His eyes didn't waver as his forthcoming words sealed Remus's fate.

"He's mine."


End file.
